


Creature of Habit

by saisei



Series: IgNoct Week 2019 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Growing Up Together, Implied/Referenced Childhood Trauma, M/M, bad mental health advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 08:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20061085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Ignis has good habits, to keep bad things away. But that changes as he grows up with Noct. (for IgNoct Week Day 3: Habits/Quirks)





	Creature of Habit

When Ignis was eight, he encountered the phrase _a creature of habit_ in a biography he was reading of King Stamus. The words rang him like a bell, because that was _him_, and he'd never been sure that it was a good thing. But if a king could be a creature of habit, then surely it wasn't wrong for Ignis?

Shortly after he was sent to live with his uncle, his uncle had taken him to see his physician because he thought Ignis' reliance on habits wasn't normal. (He said that, precisely; Ignis would never make such a thing up.) The doctor checked Ignis' throat and lungs and reflexes and so on, and said that for the position Ignis was assuming, surely solid good habits would be a good influence on the prince.

"When were the boy's parents – how long has it been since they died?"

Ignis tuned him out after that clumsy question. A doctor should remember important things; if he was careless and forgot, he couldn't be a good doctor. But the doctor did recommend Ignis get glasses, which were a great help. He liked reading better when he didn't need to hold the pages so close to his face, and he was allowed to choose frames that were just a little too big for him. His glasses slipped, and he pushed them up, and his uncle didn't chide him the way he had when Ignis picked at his lips or pulled his hair or rubbed his nose until it ran.

The doctor was also right about Noctis needing to learn how to do things properly. Noctis' nursemaid, Ignis felt, was scared to correct him. If Noctis dropped his clothes on the floor or left his toys scattered about, she simply cleaned up after him. She never told him he was _wrong_.

He suspected this was because Noct's mother had died and everyone felt sorry for him. Well. Ignis wouldn't.

He was shocked to discover that, rather than resenting the imposition of discipline, Noct adored Ignis and thrived once he understood what the rules were. He didn't become obedient, necessarily, but apparently he'd been raised being told that a Prince must do this or that, but never told _why_.

One brushed one's teeth for two minutes by the timer because dirty teeth could rot and hurt; one hung clean clothes up so that they would be neat when worn again, and because a dirty floor was dangerous. Tidiness taught responsibility, accountability, and respect for others. Today Noct was responsible for only his own rooms; in the future he'd have to maintain order in all of Lucis. One led to the other, an inexorable continuum.

Over the years with Noct, however, Ignis learned – to his chagrin – that some rules could be broken, and no one cared, or it didn't matter. They sneaked out after bedtime, sometimes, and lay on the roof looking at the stars, and even if the Crownsguard found them, often they were only warned not to fall asleep up there and catch cold. Ignis had always suspected something terrible would happen if he stepped out of line, but it didn't.

And sometimes breaking the rules was the right thing to do. When Noct told him he lied to his father to keep Iris from getting in trouble for running off, Ignis was proud of him (while simultaneously amazed at his temerity).

His moral compass shifted, subtly but significantly, until he followed his own belief in right and wrong, instead of wholeheartedly subscribing to the societal standard. He still practiced good dental hygiene, but his true north settled on Noct sometime during his teenaged years, which was unfortunately just when Noct came to understand the burden and sacrifice demanded of Lucian kings. His father was aging – dying – before everyone's eyes, the ring on his finger consuming him for the good of the nation. And Noct hated that. Hated that his blood was his destiny, hated that he had no choice, hated Ignis for having instilled in him habits and values under the guise of friendship.

His uncle had broken him of the habit of crying a decade previous, but Noct drove Ignis to hide in his car and succumb to tears of frustration and hurt. He was acutely aware that his own feelings toward Noct were not hatred in the least; rather, the opposite. He threw himself into Crownsguard training, taking comfort in hours of daily practice, becoming stronger and more flexible, ingraining new habits. He hoped others saw this as merely dedication to his job.

He was meticulously rebuilding his relationship with Noct, trying to juggle his professional role with the personal and make it somehow work, when Noct's engagement to Lady Lunafreya was decided. Ignis assumed – hoped – that King Regis discussed the matter with Noct in private and secured his agreement. He wasn't sure what he would do if he found out Noct had been ordered, or coerced.

The evening after the announcement, Noct called and asked Ignis to come over. _There's so much that needs to get done_, he'd said, but what actually happened was that as soon as Ignis let himself into the apartment, Noct grabbed him by the front of his shirt, went up on his toes, and kissed him.

"We're not talking about this," Noct told him when Ignis pulled back minutes later, needing to catch his breath and clear his head. "Not now, not ever." And he used the grip he had around Ignis' wrists to lead him into the bedroom.

Noct was, Ignis supposed dazedly, in the middle of packing, which would explain why all his belongings were strewn haphazard all over the floor. But then he was being pushed down onto the bed and decided he didn't care. He only wanted, and he was being given, so he took, all that he could have, so much of Noct that he was drowning.

They staggered out of bed well past midnight and ate cheese and crackers in the kitchen, and then fucked – made love? – right there against the counter. They had to shower the crumbs off, and then slept a few hours, and then got another round of sex in before Ignis had to go to work.

They had each other for a week, for every available moment of free time and every imaginable intimacy and indulgence. But a week wasn't near long enough to form any dangerous habits; a week was safe. When the week ended and they drove out of the city into into the wide open world, Ignis was confident that he'd be able to put it all behind him to follow Noct anywhere.


End file.
